


The Last Something That Meant Anything

by etcetera_kit



Category: Super Sentai Series, 宇宙戦隊キュウレンジャー | Uchu Sentai Kyuranger
Genre: Angst and Comfort, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 11:57:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12432345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etcetera_kit/pseuds/etcetera_kit
Summary: Stinger knew how this started. His brother was gone and dead. He felt listless, itchy. And then someone offers to help him...





	The Last Something That Meant Anything

**Author's Note:**

> I had the first part of this for a long time, but some of the recent Stinger and Champ interactions spurred me to actually finish this. :) Features people being responsible and, as the tags warn, two different relationships emerge, but not at the same time. Enjoy!

**The Last Something That Meant Anything**   
_You know my heart, so tell me honestly did you ever really want this?_

Stinger would let Champ do anything to him.

He knew how this started. His brother was gone and dead, taking on Antares for him and sacrificing himself for him at the last moment. The brother he had fought for and against was just gone. He felt listless, itchy. He had no purpose, no fuel, no drive. He could barely feel anything anymore. Everything with his brother being over was supposed to lift the weight, but everything felt worse. He was caged in, unable to breath. He felt like he’d break out of his skin or turn back to alcohol, when Champ had come into his room one night.

“I think I can help you with this, partner. If you want me to.”

So many nights later, Stinger was like this, lying naked on his bed, hands above his head, gripping the headboard, legs spread. His whole body ached with need, skin flushed and sweaty, tears leaking out of his eyes when things got to be too much.

He wanted Champ to hurt him. He deserved to be hurt.

But Champ never did.

Everything Champ did to him felt so good. Maybe that’s why he was always a crying mess when they did this. He was expecting pain and humiliation. Even though that had never happened, not once, he still, after all this time, went into this with that expectation. Why? Even before they’d become friends and then whatever this was now, Champ had never hurt him or humiliated him. Didn’t trust him, sure. Made rude comments under his breath. But no pain. 

Sometimes Champ had _things_ he used on him. Stinger didn’t know where he got those things, and he didn’t ask. The last time, Champ had a small vibrator and cock ring he’d used. He remembered the waves of pleasure, almost agonizing, running through him, wanting to come, but being unable to, the onslaught of sensations continuing. He remembered sobbing and hearing Champ’s gruff voice repeat, “You can handle this. You’re doing great. Just a little more.” Then he’d released the ring and Stinger had come so hard he passed out for a moment.

Tonight was only the lube and Champ’s fingers, and that was more than enough. 

His hips shot off the bed as Champ’s fingers curled inside him just so, making him see stars. He bit back a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a sob. Champ’s free hand went to his stomach, gently pressing him back down on the bed. In response, his hands moved from over his head, going to tightly grasp Champ’s arms. His cock was hard and leaking against his stomach.

“You in a hurry, partner?” Champ asked, tone affectionate. “You usually last longer than this.”

“Please,” Stinger whined, hips grinding down on Champ’s fingers.

“Okay, just breath. You’ll get there.”

Champ added a third finger and Stinger felt himself moan at the additional stretch and burn. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as those fingers curled again, and he damn-near shouted, hips and back arching again. 

Then Stinger felt a cold drizzle of lube on his hot and aching cock. Gods, yes, finally. Another sob came out of him, deep in his chest. Champ tugged at his balls and his groan was loud and embarrassing. Hard shivers of pleasure ran down his back, pooling in his stomach and hips, cock so hard it almost hurt, hips grinding down on those fingers, chasing them to his sweet spot. Then the other hand was on his cock and those fingers deep inside him started thrusting, the lazy rhythm matching. When Champ’s fingers were buried inside him up to the knuckle, he brushed his sweet spot every time, making his back continue to arch and more sobs come out of him.

The pressure on his cock grew a little as the finger thrusts continued. Champ stroked him down to the tip and then back again. Stinger could feel his balls drawing up tight as he got closer. Then the fingers thrust particularly hard, slamming into his prostate, making black spots dance before his eyes. His orgasm ripped through him, and he came hard into Champ’s waiting hand. 

He felt loose and undone as he fell back against the bed.

He whined briefly when Champ pulled his fingers out. Champ stood up and said, “Be right back, partner.”

This part was always predictable. Champ insisted on taking care of him. Stinger wouldn’t have minded if he just left right after he came. He could be alone with his feelings. But no, Champ said this part was important too. He’d gone into Stinger’s bathroom to get a hand towel and damp washcloth. When he came back, he used the towel to clean the mess from Stinger’s stomach and swipe at the lube on the insides of his thighs and cock. He used the washcloth to wipe away the tears and sweat from his face. He wasn’t sure he could move his limbs yet, so he let Champ clean him. 

Then Champ would put up the towel and washcloth, wrap Stinger in a blanket and pull him into his lap until his breathing evened out and he was almost asleep.

Which was exactly what Champ did.

Stinger let himself be held, listening to the whirring of Champ’s joints as he came down from his high. Champ pushed his hair out of his eyes, adjusting the blanket more securely around him.

“How long are we going to keep doing this, partner?” Champ asked softly.

Stinger blinked, trying to pull his mind back from where he had been, exhausted and overloaded with pleasure. He looked up at Champ. “What do you mean?”

Champ looked impassive as always. He shrugged a little. “I like doing this with you. Obviously, or I wouldn’t be. But come on, you know this isn’t healthy for either one of us.”

Stinger felt his heart fall into his stomach. He knew what Champ was saying was true. Champ couldn’t reciprocate a physical relationship—most androids weren’t built that way and Champ was definitely not built that way. Not to say that people didn’t. But long-term… Stinger never really thought of this part of their friendship in anything longer than ‘last time,’ ‘this time,’ or ‘next time.’ There was no real permanence to his thoughts about this. And that was it, wasn’t it? He still thought of them as friends, just with this weird dimension they didn’t talk about. Oddly, this had never gotten in the way of them working together or going on missions. This just happened late at night, unspoken. 

In spite of his own thoughts about how Champ needed to make this more uncomfortable for him, this had become an emotional release for him, as well as a physical one.

“I know,” he finally said. “I just…” He let the words trail off, not sure what he had been about to say.

“You’ve been a lot calmer lately,” Champ commented idly, fingers in his hair again, the gesture feeling less intimate and more friendly. “Helps the Commander has you back on missions.” Another shrug. “I think you’re finally getting the distance from everything that you needed.”

Stinger just stared up at him, quiet, thinking.

“You and I don’t feel this way about each other,” Champ continued. “Certainly not relationship material and definitely nothing long term.” The hand stroking through his hair continued. “I think you need to find someone organic, ask them out on a date. Do this the normal way.”

Stinger snorted a little. “Who am I supposed to ask out on a date? The options around here are not exactly plentiful.” 

Champ thought for a moment. “Lucky?” And then laughed when Stinger could not stop the horrified expression on his face. “Okay. He’s too loud for you.”

“And he annoys the hell out of me.”

The laugh continued. “Moving on.” A pause and then, “What about Hame?”

“I think she’s secretly scared of me.”

“Spada?”

“He has a thing for Hame.”

“Okay, nothing there. Tsurugi?” Champ’s laugh got louder at his second horrified expression. “That look just went into ‘hell no’ territory.” He paused and then asked softly, “Naaga?”

That was enough to give him pause. He’d never considered Naaga that way before, so he just said, “I’m not sure Naaga is interested in a physical relationship with someone.” But now that he was thinking about it, Naaga was pretty attractive, and he was quiet, not prone to outbursts or stupid catchphrases. And because he was so quiet normally, sex with Naaga would likely get wild. That was a ridiculous stereotype, but he had a feeling that Naaga letting loose would be… _hot_.

“I have it on good authority Naaga is interested in a physical relationship.”

“Whose authority?”

“You know damn well whose.”

“Balance,” Stinger muttered. “I’m surprised he and Naaga aren’t doing what we are.”

Champ shrugged. “I don’t think they feel that way about each other. I mean, I’d guess best friend territory, with those little heart necklaces, but just that, friends.” Champ nudged Stinger a little. “Besides, you know how Balance hates sharing. If he was doing this with Naaga, he never would have talked about Naaga being interested in a relationship.”

That was true. He gazed at Champ. “If I ask Naaga out, then we have to stop this.”

“Oh, even if Naaga turns you down, we still have to stop this.”

“Stop being responsible,” Stinger retorted, no ire in his voice.

If Champ could smile, he would have been. Stinger allowed himself to be bundled out of Champ’s arms and lap and onto his bed. A little more motor function had returned to his limbs, the dull ache settling into his backside, but he just let Champ lay him down and get the covers over him, adjusting the blanket more comfortably. Champ stood over the bed, tucking him in.

“So you’re asking Naaga out tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” He knew he sounded surprised. “What’s the rush?”

A shrug and then, “Strike while the iron is hot or whatever.”

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“I expect you to tell me if he said yes or no.”

“Do we need to get those best friend heart necklaces now?” Only a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

“Don’t think you can get a chain long enough for my neck, but could be fun.”

“That was a joke.”

Champ brushed his fingers through his hair one last time. “Get some rest. Figure out where you’re taking Naaga on your first date.”

“He hasn’t said yes to anything yet.”

“He will.” 

Stinger rolled over, pulling the blankets with him. “Good night, Champ,” he said, cutting off any continuing conversation.

“Good night, partner.”

Champ left the room. 

Stinger turned over their conversation in his mind. Really? Naaga? But then again, maybe the idea wasn’t so strange. Naaga had to be lonely and not really understand why. Champ had a soft spot for Naaga and even said he didn’t quite understand why Naaga put up with Balance. (Balance, on the other hand, annoyed the crud out of Champ.) 

Maybe this wasn’t a terrible idea.

\-------------------

Sex with Naaga was markedly different from sex with Champ.

Stinger should not have found that simple fact stark or surprising. Of course the sex would be different. Naaga was organic and capable of reciprocating kisses, touches… anything. Now that Stinger and Naaga would regularly find corners of the ship to make out in, he realized that Champ had not encouraged him to kiss him or touch him. He could hear Champ mooing and saying, ‘what would have been the point?’ 

Now, Naaga was laying on the bed, naked, breathing heavily, skin flushed and damp with sweat. Stinger was between his legs, pressing hot kisses to the soft skin on his chest. Naaga whined beautifully as he pressed his lips to his nipple and sucked hard. “Stinger,” he breathed.

This has been far easier than he thought. 

Naaga had agreed before asking, “What’s a date?” Which had led to a terribly awkward explanation of a date, until Naaga then blurted, “Oh, that’s what you do with someone to get to know them before you kiss and have sex!” Naaga’s tone and expression had held traces of ‘I know something’ and he was so pleased that Stinger had laughed a little and agreed. Naaga’s parting words had been, “I’m looking forward to kissing you and having sex with you.”

So Naaga definitely had no problem saying what he wanted.

He was flushed and hot, but continued pressing the lazy kisses to Naaga’s chest. Naaga threaded one hand through his hair. He had two fingers buried up to the knuckles inside Naaga as well, his hips grinding down on his fingers. He crooked his fingers just right and Naaga made a strangled noise, hips shooting off the bed and back arching. “Stinger,” he moaned. The fingers in his hair tugged and he allowed Naaga to pull him up. 

“Hmm?” he asked with a lazy smile.

Sometimes Naaga called him on what he called his ‘smug grin,’ but he was so far gone tonight that he just pulled Stinger close until he got the hint that he wanted another kiss. Not that the hint was all that hard, Naaga would chase his lips, eyes hooded and expression needy. He nuzzled against his jaw for a moment, before obliging him, plundering his mouth and making him gasp into the kiss. Naaga responded beautifully, tongue running against his. He loved the way that Naaga tasted, all clean air and pure water, nothing to hide.

He broke the kiss, gently running his free hand through Naaga’s hair. The ghost of a smile was on Naaga’s face. 

Their first date, if it could be called that, happened as a matter of circumstances. After they’d talking about going out, they’d run into a string of governors, but no down time. The night after those battles ended, Stinger had still been awake, not because of his injuries, but because he had a raging headache that was bordering on a migraine. He’d had a cup of coffee and had taken meds, but needed stronger caffeine to really kick this stupid headache. A quick search told him there was a twenty-four hour coffee shop on the surface, where he could just drink a huge cup of espresso shots. 

Mind made up, he’d grabbed his jacket and started heading towards the Voyager Bay.

In the hall, he’d run into Naaga, still fully dressed.

“Hey,” he’d said, suddenly feeling a flutter of nerves.

Naaga was impassive as always and simply asked, “Where are you going?”

“To the surface.”

“Why?”

“To get… coffee.”

“But we have coffee here.”

“Espresso. We don’t have that. I’m going to get espresso.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Headache.”

“You took medication, right?”

“Yes. I just need more caffeine.”

“I’ll go with you.”

And that was how they ended up in a coffee shop on the surface at midnight. No one else was there and middle-aged woman at the counter looked exhausted. She just took their orders—Stinger ordered three shots of espresso and Naaga got a chamomile tea—and then waved away their money. “You got rid of the governor around here,” she said. “I’m not charging you.”

They settled onto an overstuffed couch in the corner. He wasn’t sure if Naaga just had no sense of personal space or if he genuinely wanted to be this close to Stinger. Their knees brushed every so often and they were quiet as Stinger sipped the espresso. The headache was receding enough that turning his head was no longer painful. “You don’t look as pale anymore,” Naaga said softly. When Stinger looked at him questioningly, he clarified, “The headache was making you pale. You have a little more color, so it must be getting better.”

They were quiet for a little longer. Oddly, the silence was not uncomfortable, but warm and nice. This was peaceful and Stinger wanted to bask in this. He never seemed to get his mind to slow down, but Naaga brought a calming presence. Even all those times with Champ, he could never stop thinking and then overthinking. He could have done something different with his brother, could have explained himself better with Champ and Doctor Anton, could have, could have, could have… but he didn’t. And he was stuck with his guilt and his thoughts.

“None of it was your fault,” Naaga said softly.

Something loosened in Stinger’s chest.

Naaga shifted underneath him just a little bit. Stinger smiled again, adding a third finger. The moan that came out of Naaga was delicious, and his back arched before he ground down on his fingers. He spread his fingers just a little. “Now,” Naaga breathed, spreading his legs further, getting comfortable.

“You know what…” Stinger trailed off. He removed his fingers, wrapping an arm securely around Naaga’s waist, the other sliding to his ass. In one smooth movement, he reversed their positions. His back was pressed into the mattress and Naaga was straddling him. The ghost of a smile was back on Naaga’s face and he gently brushed Stinger’s hair out of his eyes. Then he reached for the lube and drizzled some over Stinger’s cock. Stinger moaned as he spread the lube.

And Naaga was perfectly content with their change in positions. He shifted forward a little, hand on Stinger’s cock, positioning himself, before he slowly sank down. Gods, Naaga’s head was thrown back, lips parted in pleasure, deep flush spreading to his chest. He was breathing erratically and looked damn beautiful. Stinger moaned again as he entered Naaga. He was hot and tight, those velvet walls feeling amazing pressing on him. They only had a few more moments of coherency left. Stinger got one arm around Naaga’s waist and the other threaded through his hair, tugging him down for a bruising kiss. Naaga responded to the kiss, hands on his chest. His smile became a little more substantial than a ghost as he sat up a little and moved. Stinger moved his hips to meet his small movements.

“Harder,” Naaga whispered.

Stinger thrust up as hard as he could, watching Naaga’s head tip to the side, look of ecstasy on his face, hitting his sweet spot on every thrust. His pupils were blown wide with pleasure, so much so that hardly any gray was visible. This was heat and perfection and everything that Stinger hadn’t realized he wanted. He could barely get out Naaga’s name, just wanted to touch as much of that soft, hot skin as he could. A wordless noise of pleasure came out of Naaga.

Naaga’s hips were losing the rhythm. He was getting close. Stinger pulled him down close, not quite kissing him, just sharing breath. With Naaga gathered up in his arms, he wrapped a hand around Naaga’s cock, timing his strokes with his thrusts.

Only a few strokes and Naaga tensed, spilling hard between their bodies.

Stinger thrust up once more, coming deep inside Naaga.

Naaga collapsed against him, head on his shoulder. Stinger held him close.

The quiet was warm and contented.

After a few minutes, their breathing evened out a little. Naaga raised his head. Stinger ran a hand through his hair as he pulled out, trying to soothe Naaga through the slight wince. Naaga moved a leg from over him, settling by his side. Stinger turned to face him, pulling him close once again.

When Stinger moved to get up, just to get a towel to clean them up, Naaga held on to him tighter. He didn’t need much more than that to remain in bed. “Not yet,” Naaga mumbled. “Just stay here.” So many nights with Champ had trained him to go get a towel almost immediately after that he was always surprised that Naaga just wanted to continue to cuddle, regardless of any mess. “We can take a bath later,” Naaga added, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

Sometimes Naaga wanted to talk afterwards. Most of the time, he just wanted to be held.

Tonight was one of the nights he just wanted to be held.

Champ was right. Everything with Naaga turned out exactly like he predicted. A part of him was glad that he and Champ had what they had for a while. That helped Stinger focus, come back from his brother’s death. And then Champ had to be responsible. Which led him to this—to quiet and calm and absolutely mind-blowing sex. Sometimes he felt like Naaga was a damn cat. He just snuck up and Stinger would find Naaga pressed to his side when he felt down or low or even just lonely. And he found himself getting worried when he hadn’t seen Naaga in a while, so he’d go seek him out, press kisses against his skin whenever he found him. Sometimes he was working, sometimes he was curled in a corner, thinking about his own demons. They could coax each other out of those dark places, back towards the light.

He thought Naaga was dozing, but suddenly Naaga was running a hand down his side. A kiss was pressed to the corner of his mouth. “Okay. Let’s take a bath.”

Soon they were sinking into the hot water, Naaga still in his arms.

He had no idea what the future would hold, but this was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> I keep promising Stinger having sex, don't I? Lol. I am a little stuck on Rebellions are Built on Hope right now, simply because I want to see how more of this "Stinger keeping Champ's potentially harmful secret" plays out (because it could give me a jumping off point for some angsty making up), so here's this one. And what? I managed to keep something well below 10k words? What's gotten into me? I hope you all enjoyed! :D (Now someone bug me to finish my other shameless porn with very little plot piece featuring Stinger and Naaga! Lulz.)


End file.
